


Lights, Camera, Action

by fluffsik



Category: VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Model AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 05:20:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11306505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluffsik/pseuds/fluffsik
Summary: As a lighting assistant for photoshoots, Wonsik prided himself on being cool-headed, adaptable, professional. Getting called in to sub as a hand model wouldn't normally throw him--but add in the Most Gorgeous Human Alive, and all bets were off.





	Lights, Camera, Action

“Cancelled?  What do you mean he cancelled?”

“Just that, sir, apparently he found a better--”

“No, no I don’t want to hear _why_.  I want to hear how we’re going to do this shoot with only one model.  What do you expect him to do, hold his own face?”

Just another bickering conversation to ignore, like a dozen others before them today alone. Wonsik frowned at the angle of the lamps and shifted one a few millimeters. The lighting director for the photoshoot was too caught up in arguing to bark his instructions, but Wonsik didn’t mind taking charge himself. He wouldn’t always be an assistant, after all. Wonsik began to hum under his breath as the argument behind him continued. He was used to tuning it out. Helping with photoshoots may be an interesting life, but it could be a bit...dramatic. At least he generally didn’t work directly with the models--from what he’d seen, “dramatic” didn’t begin to cover it.

“Hey! You! Uh, what’s your assistant’s name? Kim Wonsik! Let me see your hands.”   

Suddenly the photographer was next to him, palm extended and staring expectantly up at him. Wonsik just blinked down from his perch on the stepping stool before automatically offering his own hand. The photographer snatched it up before turning it this way and that, measuring the length of his fingertips against his own and frowning at the light callouses on his fingertips (while Wonsik’s brain raced to rewind the conversation he’d ignored, searching for context of  _ what on earth_).   

The photographer released him with an appraising grunt. “You’re right, he does have pretty hands. Good enough.”

“Uh, thanks...?”

“Well come on, hurry up! We’re getting a late start.”

He turned away and motioned to the set, where one model already waited.  

Oh.  

Wonsik wobbled precariously on the stool, clutching at the light stand for balance. Shadows danced and swayed over the model’s face.

_ OH._

You saw a lot of gorgeous people in this line of work. Wonsik was convinced he was pretty used to it by now, desensitized even. Certainly not the kind of person who would fall off a stool or have a heart attack or stare bug-eyed and slack-jawed at the newcomer. Nope, not him.  

Wonsik found himself being dragged off the stool and towards the vision of beauty waiting calmly by the set. He couldn’t quite place a finger on what convinced him he’d turn to ash if he got too close: soft brown hair carefully styled to look a little disheveled, wide doe eyes, delicate features that were somehow both soft and chiseled all at once. Surprisingly, Wonsik did not vaporize as the photographer dragged him over. Then the man beamed at him (dimples springing up in his cheeks) and Wonsik casually forgot how to breathe.  

“Hello!  I’m Lee Hongbin. Thanks for working with me today.”

Right, names were a thing. “Kim Wonsik,” he croaked. Some part of his brain was trying to remind him that staring was rude, but that part of his brain wasn’t providing any helpful suggestions of how to  _ stop_.

“Come on, we’re running behind,” snapped the photographer, and snatched Wonsik’s hand up again. Then came a barrage of instructions, and Wonsik forced himself to stop self-destructing over the proximity to the Vision of Beauty ( _ Lee Hongbin_, that little scrap of his brain reminded) and pay attention. The instructions ended with the photographer herding them into place--Hongbin standing facing the cameras, Wonsik crouched awkwardly to one side with an arm extended up towards Hongbin’s face. Gripping his jaw. No big deal.  

Even the sensible scrap of his brain was imploding now.

“Good, good, perfect!  Now stay just like that.” The storm in the photographer’s face was replaced by excitement now as he rushed back to his camera.

Wonsik waited through the first few clicks of the camera, trying not to think of how impossibly soft his skin felt against his own rough fingertips. He tried not to look up in case he got trapped staring again; he didn’t want to seem  _ too_ obvious here ( _too late_ said that unhelpful corner of his mind). But now the photographer was calling for them to change up the pose, and Wonsik had no choice but to look up to make sure he didn’t poke the model’s eye or something. His heart rate stuttered. It was even worse from close up. He was greeted by a perfect view of the impossibly sharp jaw and the way his adam’s apple bobbed every time he swallowed. He couldn’t see his eyes well from where he sat, but the light caught in the man’s long lashes was lethal enough. Breathe, breathe. He was a _ professional_.  

A third pose, then another, then another. Wonsik fought back the twisty feeling in his stomach by focusing on the difference between the instructions called out to him and to Hongbin. The photographer made sure to keep his mechanical--cup his cheek, now, thumb along the jawline, now, grip a little tighter. Hongbin got  _ give us more fire_ and _show me vulnerable_ and _seduce the camera_ (Wonsik made sure to look away for that one, but it didn’t stop his cheeks from heating up). The photographer barked more directions--as Wonsik looked up to adjust his grip, Hongbin obediently swept his eyes closed and parted his lips and suddenly Wonsik understood the true meaning of “internal screaming.” Well, shit, now he couldn’t look away. Could his lips be as soft as they looked? The new pose had his thumb so close. He let it drift just a molecule closer, just a bit--

\--Hongbin’s face turned ever so slightly and suddenly the pad of his finger was resting  _ on_ the model’s parted lips, halfway to being in his mouth.

_Shit_.  

“Oh! That’s perfect! Keep it just like that--good idea, Wonsik!”

He could feel his face burning up as he stared a hole into the floor. Okay, he wasn’t  _ that_ much of a pervert, there’s no way he’d have gone so far-- Another glance upwards and the model just stood there, face as innocent as a face could look with a thumb working its way into his mouth. Internal screaming was more internal  _howling_ by now.

Wonsik wasn’t sure how he made it through the next few minutes. The photographer had him try a few similar poses--all with a thumb or a finger just shy of slipping into Hongbin’s mouth. Mercifully the end finally came, and with a mumbled  _ gotta check something_ Wonsik stumbled away.  

The set was too small to _hide_ , exactly, but there were enough screens and light poles he could pretend to work behind while he caught his breath. And tried to get his cheeks to turn some other color than tomato-red.  

“Hey~”

Wonsik bit back a yelp, once again wobbling precariously on his stool. “L-lee Hongbin!” he wheezed. 

“Sorry, did I startle you?” The man’s voice was playful, though his eyes were apologetic. “I just wanted to say thanks. It’s hard to land jobs these days, and they’d have had to cancel me today if you didn’t help.”

“Having a hard time landing jobs?  _ You_?!” It came out a bit more shrill than Wonsik meant, and he bit his lip. “I-I mean, uh, you seemed like you had a lot of experience.”

“I like photography myself, so I’ve studied it a lot.” Hongbin rubbed the back of his head, smile sheepish, and Wonsik’s stomach did a weird flip-flop.  _ Cute_. “But you did great today. Could I buy you some coffee as thanks?”

The stool wobbled dangerously again (why was he still  _ on_ this thing??) and time and space screeched to a halt. Did he just…? Luckily, the sensible part of his brain resurrected enough to scream  _ say something, you idiot_ at him before shriveling again. “Y-yeah!  Yeah, I’d love to. Maybe you could, um, show me some of your photography.” Wonsik winced, but Hongbin’s eyes lit up.

“Really..? You’d want to see it? Ah, maybe just a couple pictures, it’s not  _ that_ good…”

Somehow seeing the other man flustered did wonders for calming him down. So he was human after all, not just an incarnation of the Sun or a god of beauty or anything. “So, coffee,” he said, voice steady for the first time in hours. “Saturday?”

“Saturday.”

\----

The results of the photoshoot weren’t out by then--despite all of the photographer’s raving about how perfect even the digital previews were, there were always editing processes after. It wasn’t until the third coffee date that Hongbin plucked the magazine from the stand at the coffee shop, grinning like a shark. “Well would you look at  _ that_.”

“H-hey!” Wonsik tried snatching it out of his hands, cheeks heating. “Isn’t that a bit, um,  _ risque_ to just--  In public--”  

Hongbin just laughed. “I’m glad they picked this one for the cover. What an idea, Kim Wonsik.”  

"I already told you it was an accident!" he sputtered, but Hongbin just continued, smiling as innocent as ever.  

"Where did you come up with it...and what other ideas do you have kicking around in there? I'd love to give them a try."

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the recent [Nylon photoshoot](https://twitter.com/Ioudsigh/status/877064628156674048). At first people were speculating that they just didn't want to use Hongbin's own hands for the picture, but when I saw the dozens of other shots that were 1000% "other man's hand coming in from off the frame to grip his face" I knew I had to write this fic.
> 
> Thank you to dangerkittyn for brainstorming the idea with me and for proofreading!


End file.
